


would it be a sin if i can't help falling in love with you?

by cosetties



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Insecurity, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9435611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosetties/pseuds/cosetties
Summary: “I mean, I already have a thing with – “ Isak waves his hand in the air. Conjuring up a girl should be way easier than this. Magnus had a girlfriend at Bakka for three months, and Isak doubts that she ever existed. All Isak has to do is make up a name, but his mouth dries up. He clears his throat. “A thing with – ““Even,” the guy says, extending his hand for Emma to shake.(Or, the fake relationship AU.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fake relationship AU has taken me so long to write, so this is the reason I haven't posted anything in so long. HUGE SHOUTOUT TO [RHAE](http://stardefiant.tumblr.com/) and [ZUZANNA](http://zielenna.tumblr.com/) FOR BETA-ING. Creds to [Daf](http://josteninski.tumblr.com/) for the title idea. This fic would be nothing without y'all.

Five minutes into his first (and hopefully last) kosegruppa meeting, Isak decides that he’s disowning all his friends. He can handle an hour of Vilde attempting to pour love into Isak’s heart or whatever, but he’s not too sure he can handle that guy sitting only a row behind him, close enough to talk to. Looking at someone can’t be this hard, especially when Isak can already feel his eyes at the back of his neck. Isak may need an extra line of defense for that one, and even his useless friends are better than nothing.

He’s still texting Jonas when Emma bounces up to him, completely oblivious to the fact that he doesn’t want to be here at all, and that she’s here too makes it even worse.

He should like her, he’s well aware. Should’ve let her go down on him right there in the bathroom, would’ve if he were any other seventeen-year-old boy. He’s the kind of guy who’s smooth with girls, can win them over with drugs on his tongue and a flick of his snapback. That’s the way it has to be, and he can’t explain why it didn’t work like that then, when the pressure of Emma’s lips against his just made him sick.

Between Emma and Vilde’s love exercise, it’s no surprise Isak ends up in the bathroom playing a dumb game on his phone. It’ll numb his brain until he can escape. When Isak runs into the guy as he’s washing his hands – that part’s definitely a surprise, but one he’s better off ignoring. 

Well, until he decides that he apparently has a personal vendetta against Isak drying his hands.

“Did you also need tissues?” he asks, and Isak must be a goddamn masochist, or just dumb as hell, because in spite of the obvious way he’s teasing Isak and the fucking _lips_ that Isak knows he’ll be dreaming about that night, Isak follows him into the cold. The guy sits on the back of the bench outside the doors, offers Isak the blunt. He’s already taken a drag, and Isak watches him blow smoke into the night. Everything he is, from the tip of his perfect hair to the comfortable slouch of his body, reminds Isak of everything he’s always pretended to be. This guy is the real deal, though.

“Do you know the group leader lady?” he asks. His stare is enough to make Isak duck his head. It’s all too piercing for a stranger, and Isak has too much to hide.

Isak waves a hand. “Vilde? With the love-exercise? I had to leave, I couldn’t deal with that stuff. What happened?” 

“She made us walk around and, uh, feel each other up in a dark room. And if you touched a dick, you had to suck it.”

“No?” Isak says, the guy laughs, because he’s obviously full of bullshit. He has the kind of face that could sell any story, the kind you’d trust before your own. The guy could tell Isak that the sky was green, or that Magnus had slept with ten girls last weekend, and a part of Isak would believe it.

It’s a little too overwhelming for a Friday night. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, or the shape of the guy’s mouth around the blunt. Probably the weed, which, Isak is surprised to find is actually pretty good shit. Definitely his own lack of self-preservation, that one’s certain.

Isak coughs into his hand. He can’t keep eye contact with the guy long enough to get past small talk. He’s about to ask about the weather, or how the hell he got away with tucking a blunt behind his ear at school, or whether the guy would’ve sucked his dick if he’d touched it, just because Isak’s wondering how far he’s willing to go with this, when Emma appears.  

Emma bites her lip, but there’s no hesitation behind it. “I’m having this pre-game for a party on Friday, and I was wondering if you wanted to come? We could go together." 

The prospect of popular, first-year Emma, who already has his friends’ approval, who would expect him to kiss her and hold her like he actually means it, drags him down more than the smoke passing through his lips. 

Isak winces. “Shit, I’m sorry. I screwed up on Saturday, I was so fucking high.” His brain races to come up with an excuse, something better than _I didn’t feel like it, I probably won’t ever feel like it, so can you please go away._ Emma needs reasons, and all Isak has are half-formed conclusions that don’t even sit right in his gut.

“I mean, I already have a thing with – “ Isak waves his hand in the air. Conjuring up a girl should be way easier than this. Magnus had a girlfriend at Bakka for three months, and Isak doubts that she ever existed. All Isak has to do is make up a name _,_ but his mouth dries up. He clears his throat. “A thing with – “

“Even,” the guy says, extending his hand for Emma to shake.

 _Even,_ Isak repeats to himself. Even, who smirks at Emma like he’s already figured her out. Even, who Isak is apparently dating.

He knows, of course, that it isn’t real, but his heart can’t stop pounding like Even’s already figured him out too. He moves to protest, but the way Even has Emma pinned down with his stare, daring her to comment, makes Isak’s mouth clamp up.  

“Oh,” Emma says. Her eyes flit between the two of them awkwardly, taking in the way they’d shifted closer to each other on the bench, with Isak’s shoulder pressing against Even’s. Isak yanks himself away, not hard enough for Emma to notice, but enough for Even’s warmth to fade. “You could’ve just told me this on Saturday,” she sniffs, tugging her scarf tighter around her neck. 

“But you can’t tell anyone,” Isak says quickly. “I’m, um.”

“We’re not out,” Even explains, and it tugs at something in Isak’s chest, near that part of himself he reserves for the silence at 3 AM. Even places his hand over Isak’s, and Isak needs a moment to catch his breath. The sheen of sweat that’s collected on his hand must be obvious. “We’d appreciate it if you kept this on the down low. Right, baby?”

It takes Isak a minute to realize he’s the baby in question.

“Right,” he says, automatically. 

After Emma shuffles away, mumbling an excuse about her friends and a third-year’s party, Isak whirls on Even. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

He’s shaking, but it’s not anger surging through his body. He feels exposed, but Even has somehow kept his cool. That makes it worse. Even doesn’t even realize what he did. Isak would rather be angry at him for it, to aim this desperation at someone, but mostly he hates himself for letting it matter so damn much. 

Even raises his eyebrows. “You looked like you were hoping for a spontaneous death there. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

Isak wills Even to understand. “I don’t date boys. I like girls.”

He’s so into girls that he’d spent the night before watching the porn Magnus had offhandedly mentioned over lunch today, as if porn and sandwiches went hand in hand. (“Imagine a sandwich of _girls_ ,” Magnus had said, like it was the most obvious thing.) He’s so into girls he’d watched half a video before exiting the page.

It’s like the thing he does with avocados. He knows, intellectually, that avocados are the bane of his existence, and he’d never understand the hype. But every once in a while, he’ll try a slice, or order a sandwich with guac, only to realize that avocados have no flavor, a weird as hell texture, and are really just a way for hipsters to signal to other hipsters that they exist.

A part of him wants to blame it on self-sabotage, just his own biases confirming themselves. That would make things easier.

Even hands him the joint again. For all Isak knows, it’s just another normal day for him. Wake up, fix his stupidly amazing hair, lie about being gay to some girl he’s just met. The fact that Even’s taking this so calmly when Isak is in minor crisis doesn’t stop him from grabbing the joint.

“She won’t tell anyone unless she’s an absolute asshole,” says Even.

Isak’s about to respond that looks can be deceiving when his phone beeps with a text. It’s Vilde, asking him if Emma can join his group, pretty please with cherry vodka poured on top. Apparently, there’s an odd number of group members. All three of them had disappeared at the same time, so she’d assumed they’d be fine with whatever decision she made, since they obviously respect her so much. She could’ve done without the “please.” If Isak has a choice, he’s not seeing it.

He sighs, shoving his phone at Even. “Look at this – we’ll never be able to keep this up in front of her.”

“You could just tell her you’re not interested.”

Isak pales. He can already imagine how his friends would react. _She was hot, bro, why’d you turn her down? You wasted a perfectly good drugs on her, what were you thinking?_ He already doesn’t make any fucking sense half the time. Just last week, he’d bailed on a party where he’d been promised dancer chick upon dancer chick because he didn’t want to change out of his sweats. He’d ended up watching the first season of The Walking Dead again, and if he’d shed a tear, no one has to know.

Isak shakes his head. “She’d just tell everyone that I’d rather pretend I was gay than hook up with her. Even I wouldn’t want to be friends with me.”

“Think about it. She’s the only one who has to know, right? It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“But why are you doing this? Don’t you care that people may find out?”

“I’m helping out a bro. My girlfriend won’t mind.”

Isak’s stomach drops. Of course he has a girlfriend, because what guy who looks like that doesn’t? She’s probably some sort of international supermodel he’d met a wild party and taken to bed immediately, because Even undoubtedly has girls throwing themselves at him left and right.

Even’s fixing him with that look that makes him feel like an awkward kid without a clue, and Isak can’t escape it. Even takes up so much damn _space_ on that bench.

“I don’t even know anything about you. Is Even your real name?”’

“I think my real name’s Even? Either that, or my parents have been fucking with me my entire life, which I wouldn’t put past them. They let me think Santa was real until I was 10.” Even rubs the back of his neck. “Shit, dude, identity crisis here. What makes Even the same person Even was yesterday? Or at twelve? Because Even at nineteen definitely doesn’t jam to Linkin Park anymore, except the occasional In The End, because let’s face it, that song is a classic – ”

“Seriously.”

Even holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, you caught me, Even Bech Næsheim, here to ruin your life and lure you into dark corners with drugs. Haven’t your parents ever taught you not to talk to strangers?” 

In spite of himself, Isak can feel his mouth curving into a smile. “Has anyone told you you’re full of shit?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you don’t know how to have a little fun?”

Isak is so offended he nearly swallows the joint. “Fun? I’m the _most_ fun. Have you seen me at parties? I can do a pretty mean Moonwalk.”

“Was that a joke?”

“My dancing is definitely not a joke, asshole,” Isak scoffs.

Even’s voice drops. “Look, just tell me you’re not comfortable with this, and we’ll call it off. But you need to keep Emma off your back, right? We flirt a little, break up after a few weeks when it’s believable, maybe you pretend that you can actually stand me.”

Before Isak can overthink it, he says, “Okay, but you better be the best fucking fake boyfriend.”

“I’ll take you on the most romantic fake dates, buy you the most delicious fake ice cream, I’ll even take you to fake Paris.”

“I’d prefer Rome, thanks. And I’m not settling for any less than the best fake gelato.”

They’re exchanging phone numbers when the ridiculousness of this entire situation hits Isak again. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I know who you are, Isak.” Even winks at him, eyes practically sparkling like a fucking Disney prince, and Isak really is dumb as hell.

* * *

At the next kosegruppa meeting, Emma comes in flushed, her hair sticking to her forehead. Isak hardly glances up from his phone. Even’s been texting him on and off all weekend, at first with memes from an unknown, prehistoric age, then with little tidbits about his day.

From what he’s gathered, Even spends most of his weekends lazily drinking with his friends, letting them pick apart every movie he likes. His favorite hard liquor is whiskey, his favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate chip cookie dough, and he’d once spent an hour defending the merits of The Great Gatsby, which his friend Mikael had put down as stylized trash, because every love story has to include homoerotic tension and death, of course. Meanwhile, Isak’s still working up the courage to text back anything more substantial than an emoji.

Even’s lack of social media doesn’t help. Isak had tried Facebook and Instagram at least ten times before giving up. His own Facebook profile is a collection of wholesome memes that Magnus keeps sharing with him, but at least they’d give a theoretical Internet stalker something to go on. For all Isak knows, Even doesn’t exist outside of Isak’s imagination. That would explain a lot. After hours of searching, he’d managed to find a short video taken by Mikael, and he watches it more times than he can admit. 

Even hasn’t mentioned the girlfriend. Isak can’t tell whether he’s relieved or if he’d rather Even remind him every chance he got.

“Hi,” Emma says, breathing heavily. She plops down next to him. “How was your weekend?”

“Good.”

He’s trying to decide between the robot and the moon emojis when Emma says, “I didn’t see you at Eva’s last party.” 

“I had something come up.”

“That sucks. I was hoping we could hang out. I mean, we got cut off at the last party we went to.”

 _Go for it,_ Jonas would tell him, clapping him on the back. _You’re so ugly you should grovel to any pretty girl who gives you the time of day,_ Mahdi would chime in. Magnus would go, _Please tell me how to eat a girl out, porn doesn’t help?_

Isak’s well aware what his friends want – less so what _he_ does.

“You know I’m, like…” He gulps, unable to force the words out.

Emma crinkles her nose. “Are you sure you’re gay? Because I just talked to Lea who told me that Sara told her she dated you last year.”

A weight drops down next to him, and before he knows it, Even slings his arm around Isak’s shoulders. He has to shoot a furtive glance around the room before his heartbeat can stop racing. They’re the only ones in here apart from Vilde, Eva, and Sana, and it’s dark enough that they blend into the background. Still, it’s all Isak can do not to throw Even off, or pull him closer, too close, until Emma goes the hell away. Either option seems equally likely to backfire. 

“Pretty sure he’s gay,” Even says. “But maybe what we did in the shower this morning was a complete lie. Have you been playing with my feelings, Isak?” He gasps, pulling back. “I’m breaking up with you right now.”

Emma taps her foot. “Sara says you were really into her, Isak.”

“Sara was a long time ago,” Isak says with a grimace. He thinks about kissing her and his stomach curls.

“You’re not fooling anyone. Everyone I’ve asked has said that Isak’s straight. You two don’t even act gay.”

“And what does acting gay mean exactly?” Even asks. The arm around Isak’s shoulders tightens, so subtly he could’ve missed it.

Emma waves her hands. “I don’t know, Madonna? Tights and mascara?”

“I know every Madonna song by heart, so I guess I pass the gay test,” Even says, shrugging.  

Isak _knows_ that Even has a girlfriend, probably kisses her sweetly like Isak’s never learned how to, but he can’t stop the hope blooming in his chest. He peeks at Even’s face to see if there’s a hint of an answer there. Even’s as impassive as ever, sporting a casual half-smile. Isak is out of his depth, and he can’t breathe every time Even manages to surprise him.

_What if?_

Isak is just setting himself up for failure here. 

“Anyway, you shouldn’t make assumptions about someone just because of the way they dress or what they like. That’s unfair,” Even continues.

Emma crosses her arms over her chest. “This is boring. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

At the front of the room, Vilde claps her hands together, and Isak jolts back to reality. In the time they’ve been talking, the room has started to fill up. With Even here, Isak had forgotten they were at a kosegruppa meeting at all.

“I need you to come to the front of the room with your pairs,” Vilde announces. She’s holding out a stack of mini dry erase boards. It reminds Isak so much of what they’d done in Physics that day that he’s tempted to remind her that school is over, and no matter how cheesy this revue group is, it can’t sink that low.  

Even slips his hand into Isak’s, simple as that. Isak can barely stifle his gasp. Handholding shouldn’t be this intimate. Even’s big hand wraps around his easily, and he presses their palms together. He’d held hands with boys before, but not like this. Jonas had always tugged him headfirst into whatever new interest caught his fancy – the skate park, guitar, _girls._ Isak had hoped once, but this doesn’t seem like wish fulfillment a year too late. It feels entirely new.  

Even drops his hand when they rejoin the rest of the group, and it’s almost a blessing. 

Vilde claps her hands together. “We want every duo to trust each other, because we’ll be spreading kose through the the entire revue. We’ll need to support each other first. So before we make plans, we thought it’d be good to play a game. I’ll ask a question that one partner has to answer on the whiteboard, and the other partner will try to guess the answer, so we can all get to know each other better.” 

Vilde’s enthusiasm is only met with silence, and Isak almost feels sorry for her, until he remembers that his presence is solely due to blackmail. 

Vilde draws a question out of the bowl that Eva produces. 

“Favorite music artist?”

It takes Isak a moment to realize that the whiteboard has somehow landed in his lap, then another minute to formulate an answer. In that time, Even and Emma have begun to argue.

“He probably likes Justin Bieber. Who doesn’t like Justin Bieber?” Emma says, and it’s all Isak can do to remain impassive.

Even cocks his head. “Seems like the type to like Gabrielle.”

 _Gabrielle,_ seriously. As if he’d ever willingly listen to that shit, even if the other option were every Kidz Bop CD possible.

When Isak reveals that he’d written NWA, Emma turns to Even. “How do you not know what kind of music your own boyfriend listens to?”

Even shrugs. “He’s still a mystery. That’s what makes our relationship exciting.” The way he draws out the word leaves nothing to the imagination, and Isak wonders if Emma’s thoughts are leading down the same risky path his are. 

“Favorite director?” Vilde says.

Automatically, Isak says, “Baz Luhrmann.”

He realizes his mistake when Even flips the board over to reveal his matching answer. 

“I’ve never had someone guess that right before,” Even says, amused. 

“I – uh,” Isak fiddles with the strings of his hoodie. “You mentioned Moulin Rouge once.”

“I wouldn’t just _mention_ Moulin Rouge. Haven’t you heard my rendition of Lady Marmalade? It’s a classic. I know our plans for date night, babe.” Even winks. 

Isak is blushing so bright he’s practically a road sign. Like, watch out for Isak Valtersen, who definitely didn’t spend all weekend searching up every bit of information about a guy he just met, and is also weirdly intrigued by the prospect of said guy crooning at him.

After the kosegruppa meeting, Isak scurries away as fast as he can, stuffing his earphones in so Gangsta Gangsta can block out the sound of Vilde asking them to join an optional sharing circle on Wednesday night. It sounds like the beginnings of an orgy – maybe he should let Magnus know. He doesn’t notice Even trailing after him until he makes it to the tram, and he feels a tug at his elbow.

“Trying to avoid me so soon?” Even says, raising his eyebrows.

Isak pulls his earphones out. “I’m just going home.”

“We live in the same direction.”

“That would explain why we’re on the same tram.”

“I’d still be here if I lived the opposite way.”

Isak doesn’t know what to make of that, really, and it suddenly annoys him, how Even can give Isak only pieces of himself and expect Isak to craft a whole story behind it. “You held my hand earlier,” he says, and he doesn’t mean to, but it comes out as an accusation. Fuck, he sounds like a five-year-old. Handholding isn’t a marriage proposal.

“It felt natural.”

Isak wishes it were a lie.

“If it’s not okay with you…” Even says.

“No, no, it was fine,” Isak hurries to say. “I just didn’t expect it. I’m pretty sure Emma’s eyes were about to burst out of her head.”

“Emma sure is something.” Even’s mouth twists to hide a smirk.

Isak snorts. “She was flirting with me before you got there.”

“Wow, after all the shit I went through to woo you?” Even jokes.

“You can’t fucking _woo_ me. I’m un-wooable.” He feels himself slipping into a grin, and it’s too early for Isak to fall into a rhythm around Even, but there’s nothing conventional about their relationship.     

“Damn, there goes the bouquet of roses I have waiting at home. I was going to give them to you sometime.”

He wonders if ‘sometime’ means after kosegruppa, after Emma, if Even will still smile at him like this if he’s not just doing it to help Isak out. 

Isak clears his throat. “Really, thanks for helping with Emma. I don’t even know why she’s still talking to me. I heard her last boyfriend was a model? I am, uh, definitely not a model.” 

His last attempt at the treadmill had ended with burning lungs and more sweat pouring out of him than he thought his body could logically hold. He’d collapsed against Mahdi after. Mahdi had only pushed him off in disgust, but it’s not like his ab routine yielded any results either. After that, his friends had decided their bonding should be limited to weed, FIFA, and the occasional drunk outpouring of actual emotion, even if Isak isn’t entirely on board. The last time it had happened, Magnus had ended up gushing at Isak for being a great bro, even if he’d once told Magnus that if his fingers handle girls like the way they handle a burger, he felt sorry for any girls who hook up with Magnus. 

Isak had been _provoked,_ okay.

“You could, like, holistically be a model,” says Even.

“What?”

Even pokes at the side of Isak’s head. “I’m trying to say you have a beautiful mind. Take a compliment.”

Isak ducks his head, blushing. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you’re nice enough to sit through kosegruppa just to get your friend’s drugs back.”

“Mahdi would make me pay if I don’t, so not really a great thing going for me there.”

“I know you have pretty good taste in music.”

At this, Isak perks up. “You listen to NWA?”

“I had Express Yourself playing on repeat when I was fourteen.” 

At fourteen, Isak had listened to Midnight Memories with Eva and accidentally ended up liking it. He’d even had to kick Eva under the table once, when she’d almost let it slip to Jonas. Of course Even beats him at music too. 

“What kind of music do you listen to?” Isak asks.

“A little bit of everything. 90’s hip-hop is great. You ever listen to Nas?” Even says.

Isak shakes his head. “Nas? _Nas?”_

Even gasps. “No way, I can’t believe you’ve listened to NWA but not Nas.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Isak says, petulant. He’s sure the name had popped up on his Spotify suggested list at one point, or Jonas had mentioned it to him. Right then, though, he wouldn’t be able to name a Nas song if a gun were held to his head, not even if Even would stop smirking.

“We should listen to him sometime,” Even suggests, as the tram comes to a stop.

“Yeah, maybe.” Isak shuffles his feet. He suddenly feels shy again.

Even nods towards the open door of the tram, says, "Follow me," but he’s already walking away without checking to make sure Isak’s tagging along. The easy assumption of it should bug him, but Isak secures his backpack straps and makes a run for the closing doors.

“What?” Isak pants, when he catches up to Even.

“This is my stop.”

* * *

Illmatic is playing through Even’s speakers, but Isak’s not paying the least bit of attention to the words. That’s fine. He’ll have an excuse to relive this moment. Even eyes Isak intently, like Isak’s opinion actually matters. 

“Ever had a girlfriend, Isak?” Even says, as he blows a perfect cloud of smoke. They’re perched on Even’s windowsill, and in spite of the weed, Isak can’t relax entirely. He keeps checking to see if Even thinks his laugh is weird, or if he’s staring too hard, or if he’ll kick Isak out for being supremely uncool. Even’s sprawled out so that his long legs are in danger of falling into Isak’s lap, but Isak holds his limbs tight against his body.

Isak shakes his head, blushing. “Yeah, I dated this girl Sara for a while.”

“Why did you break up?”

“She dumped me because I didn’t like her enough. Or something. Who knows with girls, right?”

Now Even will think something’s wrong with him. Even’s probably had at least twenty girlfriends, all of whom can actually make eye contact while talking to him. It seems like a good prerequisite for a relationship.   

He’s sharply aware that his deodorant had probably sweated off in gym that day, and now he smells like the inner depths of a boy’s locker room. His hoodie has a stain on it from Eskild’s attempt to make him tea one time when he was sick, and his snapback doesn’t even fit right on his head.   

“How long have you been with your girlfriend?” Isak asks cautiously, because he has a death wish.

“Sonja? About four years.”

Isak struggles to hide a reaction. “That’s a long time.”

Even lets out a breath, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I guess? We were so young, I wonder if we’re even the same people we were then.” 

“Then why are you still with her?”

“She’s all I know.”

Isak gets that, deep down, has seen how familiarity can turn into a comfortable prison if he lets it drag on too long. It hadn’t worked out for his parents, hadn’t worked out for Eva and Jonas, and a dangerous part of Isak can’t help but wonder why Even’s telling him all of this in the first place.

He shoves the thought down as quickly as it comes up. 

“Getting together with someone at fifteen not dramatic enough for you?” Isak jokes. It’s something to break the tension, to stop himself from thinking too hard about it.

Even laughs. “Nothing like _our_ story.”

“Really,” Isak drawls. “How’d we meet then?”

“That’s easy. I saw you on the first day of school, and I kept trying to get your attention, but you never even looked my way. You had no idea I staked out your locker every morning – seriously, Isak, just clean it out sometime, trash cans aren’t just for you to metaphorically throw yourself into. One day, I decided to work up my courage to ask you out after your Biology class, and for some reason, you said yes. I think there may have been a tear in your eye.”

“No one’s going to believe that I didn’t notice you,” Isak says. Even is impossible to ignore. He has no idea what kind of effect the has on people. “You wear sunglasses in October. Who the fuck does that?” 

“They make me look cool.”

Isak can’t stifle his snort. “They make you look like an asshole.”

“Apparently, you have a thing for that, because you let me kiss you on our first date.” 

“I’m not that easy,” Isak protests. 

“Never said you were. I’m just irresistible. Besides, I made you eggs for dinner with my secret recipe, and you fell right into my arms. I didn’t even have to bring out the gelato.” 

Even’s arms look horribly inviting now as they hang loosely at his sides. Isak gulps. “That’s – that’s a good story to tell Emma if she asks.”

Even grins. “Of course. We invented romance, didn’t you know?”

When Isak is high enough to eat an entire mountain, Even goes to the kitchen to bring him back food. Alone, Isak has too much to take in all at once. Even’s room is like any other teenage boy’s room – a little more eclectic, maybe – but Even has opened up doors that Isak had never expected to be let through. He’s terrified and excited all at once.

It shouldn’t be like this. Even’s not treating it like a huge deal. He probably invites new friends home every day, as long as they look a little bit lost and confused. Isak’s not that special.  

Even comes back with a smug grin on his face, only to throw a plate of soggy microwaveable mini-burgers into Isak’s lap.

“What happened to your cooking skills? I thought they were good enough to make me fall for you,” Isak deadpans. Honestly, the mini-burgers aren’t the worst thing. One time when he was high, he’d almost eaten Jonas’s sock because it had somehow landed in their bowl of popcorn as he’d settled down to watch Fast and Furious on Isak’s couch. Isak had chewed on it for a good two seconds before the epiphany hit him, and it took him another second to figure out which facial muscles were necessary to spit it out.

Even cuffs Isak on the back of the head as he sits down. “We’re old and domestic now. I don’t have to impress you anymore.”

Even takes a bite of burger, and the cheese dribbles out of his mouth and onto his chin. Isak has to muffle his chuckle with a hand. It’s a little bit gross and a lot endearing.  

“So this is the real you? Nice to know the kind of guy I’ve been fake dating.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak and Even are cute as hell "just friends," Pride cupcakes are baked, and maybe some people are starting to catch on.

It’s almost too easy to fall into a friendship with Even after that, for Isak to come over to his apartment after school and watch shitty movies with him while Even yells at the screen, for Even to say hi to Isak in the hallways at school, like it’s casual, like they’ve known each other for years.

Kosegruppa meetings go like this now: Isak will get there first, because his Norwegian professor is lazier than half of her students and lets them out early. Even will find him sitting in the back, messing around on his phone, and he’ll plop down next to him and pull him into a conversation about whatever movie he saw over the weekend, or why Nietzsche may be quotable but he has terrible opinions about the theatre, or parallel universes, because shit, man, I don’t know anything about that, but you do. Even could talk about the latest Kardashian drama, and Isak would still hang on to his every word.

It’s the weirdest thing. Even will tug Isak’s snapback off his head to mess with his hair, or brush his fingers along Isak’s arm for Emma’s benefit, and maybe it’ll make Isak’s breath hitch, but it doesn’t strike anyone else as odd. Vilde had even told him that she’s glad he and Even are becoming such good friends, because there’s something to be said about having a popular third-year in your top three most texted people, and also, Isak really should invite her to hang out with him and Even.

He’s glad, of course, that Emma hasn’t let their secret loose. But a tiny part of him almost wants someone to figure it out, just as validation.

Even slides into the seat next to him on Wednesday, holding his phone open to the camera app.

“Quick, look like you actually like me,” Even says, and Isak hardly has time to force a smile before Even’s snapping a selfie.

“Never pegged you as a slave to social media,” Isak tells him. Even’s flipping through the VSCO filters, and Isak cringes when he sees one that makes his face look even paler than it already does. He’d been up memorizing electricity formulas all night, only to blank on resistor colors on his test earlier. In his defense, Even had been ribbing him about his lack of movie knowledge, and his phone was blowing up with gifs from Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo and Juliet before Isak promised to watch it that weekend, when he wasn’t buried under twenty pages of circuit practice.

Even finally manages to find a filter he’s comfortable with. Meanwhile, Isak’s half-formed smile just makes him look like he’s stared into the void and is trying to recover.

“You couldn’t have waited until I was ready?” Isak says as Even saves the picture on his phone.

“Emma’s been bugging me about us again, so we have to step up our game. Can’t seem to understand you liking me, I guess.”

It’s probably the other way around, but Isak sure isn’t going to say that out loud. It’s so obvious, and the fact that Even seems unaware of it only makes it worse.

Even shoves the phone at Isak. “Here, how does this look?”

Even looks radiant, and Isak’s still as mediocre as ever – nothing new there.

“It looks fine,” Isak mumbles. Even sets it as his phone background.

When Emma comes and asks them how their weekend went, Even immediately goes into every single detail of their weekend plans, complete with pictures. Look, there’s Isak losing at FIFA. Here’s another one of Isak trying to understand why The Breakfast Club is such an iconic movie. And doesn’t he look absolutely adorable asleep at 2 in the afternoon? He’d kicked Even in the gut when Even tried to wake him up.

It strikes Isak, suddenly, that those pictures are _real._ Even’s probably still sporting the bruises from Isak’s kick, because he’d been dumb enough to expect Isak to wake up before 5pm on a weekend if he didn’t need to.

There’s no way they could have hung out that much this past weekend. Isak hadn’t even noticed Even taking the pictures, and at this point, he’s acutely aware of every goddamn thing Even does. It seems impossible not to be. It’s a little exciting, knowing that Even may have been watching even when Isak hadn’t looked back.

Emma gets called away by Lea, but Even’s phone is still displaying a selfie of them eating Noora’s slutty brownies (she wasn’t actually going to eat them, anyway, she loves herself too much). Isak has chocolate dripping from the corner of his mouth, and Even’s lips are covered in fudge. Isak had thought the selfie was strange at the time, but had blamed it on Even’s typical eccentricities. Isak’s rolling his eyes at something Even’s said, but Even’s beaming at him anyway.

Isak swallows. “Uh, can you send me that one? In case I gotta show Emma something on my phone.”

* * *

Texting and lugging cupcake ingredients back to his apartment apparently don’t go hand in hand (literally), because he’s tripping every three feet. It’s a miracle he’s survived this long. It’s honestly too much to ask from someone who’s stumbled over their own toes, but Even’s texting him about how Frank Ocean managed to craft such a cohesive album, and Isak can only play along like he knows music past “this makes me feel like I could tear down a fucking building.” He somehow drags himself into the kitchen, only to find that Even’s already there, bringing back the 90’s in a denim jacket that has no right to fit that snugly on his body.  

And apparently, he’s met Eskild and Noora. Noora’s fucking _biting her lip_ as Even asks her about Spain, perfectly attentive as Noora describes the story of how she’d almost gotten run over by a DiCaprio look-alike on a motorcycle. Eskild’s eyebrows are raised so high they may as well fall right off his head.

“Hi,” Isak says cautiously, grocery bags still in hand.

“Hi,” Even says. “Did you know Noora’s fluent in Spanish? And she knows the Prado backwards and forwards? You never told me you had such cool roommates, Isak.”

Noora giggles, and it makes Isak’s chest tighten. He nearly drops the bags out of spite. Noora and Eskild look ready to adopt Even. Either that or fuck him, and Isak can only hope they don’t do both at the same time.

“You never told me you had such a cool friend, Isak,” Eskild says. “He’s very tall.”

Eskild’s probably holding back a whole list of adjectives other than _tall_ , but Isak gets the feeling.

“Well, it was nice that you all met, but Even and I have some work to do.” Isak sets the bags on the counter. “And didn’t you sign up for yoga, Eskild? Something about you trying to be more flexible?”

“I’ve never had any complaints about my flexibility,” Eskild protests, but Noora, who can actually read social cues a good majority of the time, is tugging him out of the kitchen as Eskild protests that he just needs to document Isak cooking. It’s a rite of passage, really. It’s never happening again, Isak can promise that.

“Does Vilde realize assigning us the first round of baking was probably a bad idea? We’re going to ruin it for everyone else,” Isak says. He starts pulling the eggs and yellow cake mix out of the bag, and Even hurries to help. There’s something familiar about the way they move around each other that makes Isak pause as Even methodically takes the food coloring out of the box.

“What?” Even says when he notices. “Do I have something in my teeth? Because my dentist told me to brush better, and I haven’t gotten a cavity in, like, a whole three months.”

Isak shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says.

The doorbell rings, then, jolting Isak out of his daze. “That must be Emma,” Isak says.

“Gotta love her.” Even winks, and if only Isak knew what any of this _means._

Emma hurries in as soon as Isak opens the door, chatting his ear off about this party she’d gone to over the weekend. _You really should’ve been there, Isak, your friend Jonas was there. That girl Eva was asking about you. Are you dating her, Isak? She seemed kind of desperate._

Her words dry up when she sees Even in the kitchen, already cracking the eggs into a bowl. “Oh, so you two actually do spend time together. I’ve never seen you two at school. Weird, for a couple,” she says.

“Our relationship is healthy enough for us to spend time apart. Right, babe?” Even raises his eyebrows. It’s a challenge, it’s an invitation, and Isak can’t – doesn’t want to – back down. Before he knows it, he’s sliding up to Even. Even slips an arm around his waist, looking at Emma straight in the eye.

Isak wraps his arm around Even’s waist, too, only for Even’s muscles to tense under his hand. He immediately jerks back, but Even’s free hand catches his before he can go too far, guiding Isak’s arm back around him, like puzzle pieces slotting together.

“Excuse Isak. He’s a little possessive,” says Even, looking a little too proud of himself.

“Possessive? Me? You’re the one who can’t stop touching me.”

“How long have you two been together, again?” Emma says.

“A month,” Isak says, before realizing that Even was about to answer too. From the way his mouth slams shut immediately, it’s a good thing he hadn’t managed to answer in time.

“And you haven’t told any of your friends,” Emma continues, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We’re waiting until we’re both ready,” Even says.

“It’s 2016, what are you waiting for?”

Isak can’t find the words to respond, or maybe he has too many words and just can’t find the strength for them. Luckily, Even beats him to it. “Because 2016 means that everyone should come out. I mean, there’s gay marriage and everything.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe that you two are still trying to keep this up. If you’re doing this to prove something, that’s whatever. You do realize you’re going to have to break up eventually, right? If you were ever together.”

The flippant way she says it makes something curl in Isak’s gut, and on impulse, he stands on his toes to peck Even on the cheek. It’s only a brush of the lips, but Even’s skin is so fucking soft it should be a crime. Isak lets himself stand still for a moment, basking in it.

 _He has a girlfriend,_ Isak thinks, but Even tightens his arm around Isak’s waist, as if he’d anticipated that Isak would shy away.

Emma opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Even takes advantage of her silence to hand Isak the bowl. “You can start stirring, honey,” he tells him.  

“Isak, where’s your bathroom?” Emma bites out, and Isak nods down the hallway. She strides off, already punching a number into her phone.

Isak drops his arm from Even’s waist, and he can’t tell whether he’s disappointed when Even doesn’t stop him this time. He has to give himself a second to recover.

Isak sets the batter down to bury his face in his hands. “I don’t think she’s giving up anytime soon.”

Even leans against the counter. “I have this theory that Emma was that one kid in school who stole every other kid’s crayons because she thought her car drawings were better than everyone else’s. It got worse when she moved on to drawing real people, because she always stole the last nude crayon. It had to be _realistic,_ right. But no one ever called her out on it, because she was too cute to send to the principal’s office, and now she has a complex.”

Isak snorts. “That’s specific.”

“Personal experience,” Even says. “I was really cute as a kid. I’m pretty sure my mom used me to get my bigoted aunt to shut up at family reunions.”

“You didn’t end up with a complex.”

“That’s so nice, Isak, you should stop now before someone finds out you actually know how to give compliments.”

“I’m _am_ nice _._ I’m the master of being nice. No one’s nicer than me. _”_

“Yesterday, you asked me the bluntest way possible to tell your friend Magnus that his obsession with Bellatrix Lestrange is just weird.”

“She’s evil.”

“Don’t kinkshame the poor guy.”

And that’s not a thought Isak ever wants to have about Magnus. He already has a hard enough time when his friends think the lunch table is the best place to talk about hookups. He’s learned more about what Jonas’s tongue can do than he ever cares to know about _anyone’s_ tongue, much less his best friend’s. It’s a constant stream of girls, parties, girls, and when Isak joins in, it sounds half-hearted even to his own ears. He couldn't even tell them he’d spent a Saturday afternoon baking with Even without his palms sweating, without stuttering the words out like he has something to hide.

The toilet flushes, and Isak can hear water running.

“I don’t know what it’s going to take to make her leave us alone.” Isak lets out a sigh as he rubs his temples.  

Even tilts his head, pressing his lips together in concentration. “Get on the countertop.”

Isak catches on immediately, and his heart races in response. He knows what it’ll look like to Emma. Isak hopes Even doesn’t notice the blush rising to his cheeks. “Do you think it’s going to work?”

Even shrugs. “Only way to know, right?”

When they can hear Emma’s footsteps approaching, Isak hoists himself onto the counter, and Even slots himself into the gap between Isak’s legs, arms bracketing Isak’s body. The space between them buzzes with tension. Isak wants to run away from it and close it all at once. He holds himself still, careful not to brush against Even - he’s a little afraid of what will happen if he does.

“Halla,” Even says, and Isak can’t hold back a shiver when Even’s breath brushes his cheek. It’s just molecules of air vibrating faster and faster, there’s no magic behind it. Just pure kinetic energy. It doesn’t stop his skin from tingling.

“Halla,” Isak croaks.

“Did you know Rousseau had a spanking kink?” Even whispers in his ear, silky smooth.

“What the _hell?”_

“Hey, you’re blushing, it’s doing the job.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but he’s not shying away this time. He has to tilt his head back to make eye contact with Even, and his lips hover so close to Even’s he can see it play out. He’d only have to move an inch. He waits for a sign, he waits for an invitation, and maybe there’s a flicker in Even’s eyes, but it doesn’t matter anyway, because the next thing he knows, Isak hears the sound of his trash can crashing to the floor.

When he manages to tear his eyes from Even, Emma’s standing over the spilled trash. There’s a portion of leftover steak, an empty tube of lipstick, and shit – is that a used condom? Isak doesn’t even want to know.

“I, uh,” she says, slowly backing away. “Sorry about the mess.”

Even’s the perfect image of politeness, tips of his mouth turned down in concern. “Was something bothering you?”  

Emma shakes her head. “Why would anything be bothering me? I’m not a homophobe _,_ ” she says quickly.

“Of course not. Homophobia doesn’t exist anymore.”

Isak can’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction when Emma’s cheeks flush red. “I should go. Lots of reading to do, and stuff,” she says.

“We totally understand. Stuff is important. We can handle this ourselves, right, babe?” Even threads his fingers through Isak’s. Isak gives a rigid nod.

After Emma slams the door behind her, Isak offers Even a box of rubber gloves from a drawer. “We’re not cleaning this shit up with our bare hands. Even I’m not that gross,” Isak tells him.

“Really? Because Eskild was just telling me about how he’s pretty sure you wear the same pair of underwear for an entire week.”

“Eskild is a liar, a horrible friend, and laundry machines are hard, okay?”

Even only grins and shoots Isak an appreciative look, like he thinks Isak is the funniest guy in the world. It almost makes Isak fall on his ass as he jumps from the counter.

After they scoop the last of the trash back into the bin, Even stands up and says, “Let’s make some damn cupcakes.”

He offers Isak a hand, and Isak grabs it. His fingers slot between Even’s perfectly, but that’s probably just his imagination. Even pulls him to his feet like he’s Isak’s goddamn knight in shining armor.

Even grabs the bowl and adds a spoonful of sour cream into the batter – _that’s the secret, Isak –_ and licks the spoon. “This actually tastes pretty good.”

“You don’t have to act so surprised. I’m not that useless.”

“I never thought you were.”

Even needs to stop saying shit like this. It _does_ things to Isak’s head.

Even makes him pour the batter into five separate smaller bowls, so he can add a few drops of food coloring into them. He screws up his face in the weirdest way as he concentrates on getting the color just right, mixing the batter every few drops until he gets the perfect shades.

“These cupcakes aren’t that big of a deal,” Isak says as Even mutters to himself, trying to figure out how to add three-fourths of a drop. He almost goes cross-eyed as he sticks his tongue out of the side of his mouth, and Isak has never been fonder.

“Hush, I’m trying to channel my inner Stuart Semple here,” Even says.

Isak manages to tear his eyes away before “vaguely curious” becomes “obsessed,” but let’s face it – he’s crossed that line long ago.

“Rainbow cupcakes, really?” he says, just to break the silence. The quiet gives him too much room to think, to form fantasies out of uncertainties.

“I thought it was relevant.” Even gives a careless shrug, but when they make eye contact, they break into matching grins.

The cupcakes take about an hour to bake, and as they wait, Isak makes Even watch the first episode of Stranger Things. Even prefers movies, but even he can appreciate the aesthetic. 

“Gotta applaud those kids,” Even says at the end of the first episode. “All I did at twelve was whine about my acne and write My Chemical Romance lyrics in my diary.”

That’s better than developing a crush on his straight best friend, so Isak figures Even still wins.

When they hand out the cupcakes at the kosegruppa meeting the next day, even Sana’s impressed. It’s fitting, really, that _this_ is what it takes for Isak to gain her approval, after he’s saved her ass in biology too many times to count.

“Didn’t think you two could do it,” she says as she grabs her second cupcake.

“It was all Isak,” Even says, beaming at him. Isak’s stomach flutters, and Even might be playing up the act for Emma, who’s glaring at them from the stage, but if Isak can have this, he’ll take it.

“Well, I guess even Isak had to be good at something.”

Sana gives him back Mahdi’s weed the next day in Biology, and they narrowly manage to avoid their teacher seeing them.

“Guess you don’t have to come to kosegruppa meetings anymore,” she says.

“Guess not.”

“So see you this Friday?”

Isak ducks his face into his Biology textbook to avoid answering her, but Sana’s knowing smile says it all.

* * *

Eskild does this thing where he thinks Isak’s unlocked bedroom door is an open invitation for him to invade his space, conveniently forgetting that none of these doors lock in the first place. That’s how Isak finds Eskild jumping onto his bed on a Saturday morning, looking up at Isak with innocent eyes.  

Isak knows the truth. There’s nothing innocent about Eskild.

“What is it? I already paid my rent for this month.”

Eskild waves a hand. “I wasn’t asking about that. How’s Even? Is he coming back soon?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I haven’t seen you smile that much since you moved in, not around any of your other two friends.”

Eskild is well aware that Isak has _three_  friends, the shithead.

“Even’s just really busy. I’ll be sure to tell him my nosy roommate wants to see him again. He’ll come rushing over here in no time.”

“Of course he will. My opinion means a lot.”

Isak would totally give up at least half a box of the cookies he’s currently stuffing in his mouth for Eskild to leave. He’s been idly finishing up a Bio presentation while texting Even about the mother-daughter universe theory, and his fingers are itching to reply.

(“So there’s a universe out there where you never fucked up trying to hide your weed and didn’t meet me?” Even texts.

“Of course there’s a universe where I don’t have to put up with you. That Isak’s living the dream, probably at some great party instead of texting you on Friday night.”

“I don’t think I’d like that Isak very much.”)

“We’re not that close, anyway,” Isak says under his breath.

Eskild rolls over so that he’s lying on his stomach and rests his chin in his hands. “You know I just want you to be happy, right? No matter what?”

“And I’ll be sure to tell you when I’m not perfectly happy, because I love sharing my feelings. Especially with you, who has never led me astray, and always respects my boundaries.”

“Alright, have it your way. But one day, you’ll need your guru, and I’ll be here,” Eskild says. Before he walks out the door, he adds, “How’d the cupcakes go, anyway? I thought your baking would at least kill two people and hospitalize a couple more.”

Isak throws a pillow at him, but Eskild’s already shaking with laughter.

* * *

When Isak sits down at lunch that day, Magnus is already in the middle of a story. “So this chick invites me to a house party, right, so of course I say yes because she throws in the winky face. I go over to her apartment, and there are a ton of people there, all guys. I ask one guy how he knows this girl, and it turns out, he’d been talking to her on Tinder. It was her fucking birthday party, and she didn’t have enough friends, so she used Tinder to fill up her apartment. How desperate is that?”

Magnus only has three friends, all of whom are sitting at this table, so maybe he doesn’t have much ground to stand on.

“I told you not to fuck with Tinder, man,” Jonas says, shaking his head.

Magnus holds up his hands. “Hey, not complaining. The cake was damn good. Tres leches is the shit.”

“When did you even make a Tinder?” Isak asks. He starts tearing into his toast a little too aggressively.

“Last Saturday. You had stuff with your family,” Magnus says.

“Yeah, _family stuff,”_ Mahdi snickers, and so maybe Isak had actually been watching The Wedding Singer over Rabbit with Even, but Even had insisted _,_ and they’d ended up watching Sleepless in Seattle and getting halfway through You’ve Got Mail before Isak started nodding off. Even has an opinion about everything, and it’s easy to get caught up in it, to watch Even’s face as it lights up at every cheesy moment. Even probably gets invited to at least ten parties a night, but he’d chosen to spend his Friday night virtually hanging out with Isak instead. Even’s undivided attention is a lot of pressure, and Isak sometimes wonders when Even will finally start realizing that Isak isn’t worth the trouble.  

“My mom was a little stressed,” Isak says. His toast suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world as he avoids eye contact with his friends. The bread is stale, but what did he expect, really.

Jonas’s brows furrow in concern. “How is she?”

“She’s fine. More of the same.”

“If you need to talk about anything…”

“I’m _fine_ , man.”

Jonas doesn’t give up. “You haven’t been hanging out with us lately – what’s new with you? What happened to that thing you had with Emma?”

“Emma with the short hair? Yeah, dude what happened with her?” Mahdi says. “That chick was hot, no idea why she wanted to hook up with you.”

“Must’ve been a wild night, man,” Magnus sighs. “I wish I knew how to get girls like that.”

Isak blinks and rubs at his eye. “I haven’t really talked to her. I got these weird vibes from her, you know? It wasn’t worth it.”

“But she was _hot,”_ Magnus insists.

“You may be desperate enough to hook up with anyone, but I have standards.”

His Biology book lands in front of him suddenly, narrowly missing his lunch. “You left this yesterday,” Even says from behind him.

Isak's breathing goes shallow. He hadn’t anticipated this, hadn’t planned for it in the hours he’s spent alone in his room, staring at the ceiling. He’s tried to analyze Even down to the last molecule, but he’d never planned out an escape plan for when Even inevitably met his friends. Straight up running out of the cafeteria probably won’t help him much at this point; he’s already in too deep.

“Guys, this is Even. We met through kosegruppa,” Isak says through gritted teeth, eyes glued to the table. His heart thumps in his chest.

“Vilde’s revue group?” Jonas says.

“I only went to get Mahdi’s damn drugs back,” Isak mumbles.

Jonas smirks. “I’m not judging, man, abandoning us for baking and love – “

“Isak’s too angsty for that. Vilde goes wild every time he manages to look like he's not dying a slow and painful death,” Even adds.

“Don’t fucking get me started, man. Did you know he kept a diary in middle school?”

Even’s eyes light up. “No way. Where can I find it?”

“I burned it,” Isak says conversationally. “And we all had to do it. Our Psych teacher was really into that shit. I’m pretty sure I took pictures of Jonas’s. He won’t admit to his Fall Out Boy phase, but I have photographic proof that it happened.”

Since this is his life now, and nothing will ever go his way, they just ignore him. “He’s the _worst,_ he didn’t come out of his room for an entire weekend in seventh grade because his mom accidentally gave him a bowl cut.”

“Do you know how hard it is to get him to hang out with us? Too busy wallowing in self-pity on Saturday nights, I guess,” Mahdi adds.

“I can count on one hand the number of times he’s smiled at me sober when he’s not making fun of me,” Magnus chimes in.

Something inside him shifts as he watches Even pull a chair up to their table, laughing with his friends. His gaze snags on Isak’s, and he tilts his head in an unspoken question as Jonas cackles at something Even’s said about capitalism. Isak nods. Even’s a part of his life now, and that’s fine, Isak _wants_ them to like each other. Even matters.

Admitting it should make Isak feel like he’s walking into dangerous territory blindfolded, but it’s strangely comforting.

The guys pull Even into an in-depth discussion about their favorite Big Sean songs, and Even only leaves when he gets a phone call from his mom. He claps Isak on the back as he goes, and Isak’s feeling dumb enough to notice that his hand lingers there a second too long.

“He’s so cool,” Magnus says as soon as Even’s out of earshot. “Where do you meet cool people? Is there a friend Tinder, because I’d totally swipe right on Even.”

“But would he swipe right on you is the real question,” Isak says, and Magnus pouts because Isak’s a dick, but honestly, Even may have liked his friends a little too much. 

A few minutes later, when Mahdi and Magnus are scrambling to get to Norwegian five minutes early so Magnus can turn in an assignment that’s already late, Jonas asks, “Wasn’t he wearing your Simpsons shirt?”

Isak tenses. Isak and Even had switched shirts in the bathroom before Isak’s Biology period that day, because Isak and Emma always seemed to cross paths then. It had been worth it to see Emma’s face turn bright red, and the smell of the fresh laundry detergent on Even’s Wu Tang Clan shirt only made it better.

“Fuck, it’s not like I’ve bought all the Simpsons shirts in existence. We can have similar shirts,” Isak says.

“But I could’ve sworn I’ve seen you wear that one before.”

“I helped him with a film project last night, and he stayed late, and the shirt was clean, okay?” Isak snaps.

“Why are you so defensive? We’ve shared shirts before.”

Isak ducks his head, mutters, “Sorry.”

He bites into his toast again, and focusing on the gnashing of his teeth lets him ignore the way Jonas is looking at him like Isak’s keeping something from him. Jonas would be wrong, because there’s definitely nothing going on with Isak _._ He’s an open book.

Fuck, Isak needs to get a grip.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter may take a little longer than a week. Bear with me! It's going to be slightly longer.
> 
> Also, yes, people [really make cupcakes with sour cream.](http://www.the-girl-who-ate-everything.com/2010/03/because-life-isnt-always-rainbows-and.html)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak doesn't know what's pretend anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I'm so sorry this took so long! It's just been a busy two weeks, and this chapter too a lot out of me. I wouldn't have made it through without [Rhae](http://stardefiant.tumblr.com/), [Zuzanna](http://zielenna.tumblr.com/), and [CeeCee](http://westiris.tumblr.com/)! I love you all. 
> 
> Also happy birthday, Even!

It only takes a few weeks for Vilde to learn Isak’s weakness, and only another day for her to figure out Even’s schedule well enough to be able to corner him after his Norwegian class. She’d caught him off guard, okay, and let’s see  _ Isak  _ try to resist Vilde when she’s handing him an entire basket of freshly-baked buttered buns. 

Even says all this as he’s lying on Isak’s bed, blinking those blue eyes up at him in a way that makes Isak so weak at the knees that he’s grateful he’s sitting down. 

Isak wonders if Even’s aware of what he does to him, that Isak had looked up Sonja on Facebook the other night because he’d needed  a dose of reality.  She works for a sales company now, and but that’s the only boring thing about her. She’d been part of her high school’s revue, she goes out with all her friends every damn night, and she’s a vegan. Isak even catches a glimpse of Even in some of her pictures, as elusive as he is on social media. They’re always touching – his arm casually slung around her waist, her hand in his. It falls short of an “in a relationship” status, but there’s no doubt they’re together.  

Sonja’s probably never had the same weird thoughts Isak has going through her head. Thoughts like  _ my knees could stand to be less knobbly _ , or  _ my hair makes me look like Artie from Shrek _ , or  _ I’m never going to find someone who smiles at me like I’m worth it.  _

“Vilde’s harmless, and Eskild loves parties,” Even reminds him. He sets his video game controller down so he can roll over onto his stomach. Seeing Even lying there like that, in a rumpled hoodie and biting his bottom lip, there’s no way Isak can say no.

“You’re too fucking nice. Remind me why I’m friends with you.”

“I let you beat me at FIFA.”

“Hey – what? You mean you let me win that last time? I want a rematch.”

So on Friday night, Isak finds himself nursing a cold beer on the couch, frowning as Even’s talking to some blonde in the corner. Isak vaguely remembers her from a string of gossip that Magnus had subjected him to last year. He thinks her name is Linda, and she and her boyfriend had once been caught at one of Eva’s parties high on coke, with his tongue down her throat. It hadn’t been one of Eva’s best nights. 

She’s twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers as he whispers in her ear, and Isak has to take another gulp of his beer when she lays her hand on Even’s forearm. They’re probably talking about whichever movies are likely to get Oscars this season, or whatever hip indie band Even’s managed to pull out of the depths of Spotify, nothing Isak’s into. He wonders when Even will realize that Isak can’t ever keep up with him, whether he’s already realized and is only sticking around for show.  

Of course Even would rather find some cooler people to chill with, when they don’t have to pretend for Emma. Of course he’d rather not think about Isak sulking on a couch. Even is all bright grins and unbridled energy. Why did Isak ever think he could keep Even to himself?

He’s staring at his drink, debating the possibility of escaping to his room to watch Narcos, when Even drops down next to him on the couch. He presses his thigh against Isak’s. 

“You look way too sad for a party,” he says, poking Isak in the side. “Cheer up, everyone’s having a great time.”

When Isak looks up, Eva and Vilde are making out in a corner. So yeah, everyone’s having a great time, all right. Everyone’s having a great time at  _ his  _ apartment, and Isak is still sat awkwardly on his couch grumbling into his beer. Sounds about right. 

“You’ve been doing fine,” Isak says. He’s too drunk to hide his bitterness when he nods toward Linda, who’s now talking to a girl in the corner as she subtly sways to the music. Why do people like  _ girls  _ so fucking much? Goddamn. Isak finishes half the can of beer in one swig, then regrets it when he’s hit with a coughing fit. Even chuckles as he pats Isak on the back. 

Isak glares. “You’re laughing at me.”

“How could anyone ever laugh at you? You’ve never done anything embarrassing in your life.” When Isak starts coughing again, Even continues, “Not that it matters, but Linda was just asking me if I’d seen her girlfriend.”

Isak’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I thought she had a boyfriend in the third year.”

“She broke up with him last year. Now she’s dating a very nice girl whose only fault is showing up to parties late without texting her.”

“So she likes…both?”

“I can’t answer that for her.” Even shrugs. 

Linda tilts her face up for a kiss, and her girlfriend leans down to peck her on the lips. Casual. No one spares them a glance. Isak gulps, looking away. There’s a vague sense of longing building up in his gut, and he shoves it down before it solidifies. 

“Vilde keeps bugging me about making sure everyone’s having a good time,” Even says.

Isak snorts. “She knows it’s her party, right? And you’re technically a guest?”

“For some reason, she seems to think you and I are hosting together.”   

They hadn’t done much to indicate otherwise. Even has been falling behind in his Biology class, and he’d decided to sacrifice his Friday afternoon plans to come over to Isak’s instead for some tutoring for his test on Monday. Isak had come prepared with flashcards, but they’d only gotten through reviewing cell division once until Even had pulled out the joints from his bag. He’d tried to convince Isak that Beach House was the perfect sort of music to get high to, but Isak wasn’t having any of that hipster shit, and it devolved into an hour long discussion about what counted as  _ hipster,  _ exactly. (Cold brew? No. Jonas? Yes.)

They’d ended up greeting Vilde together, and maybe a part of Isak realized what conclusion she would draw. Maybe he’d wanted her to. 

“Shit, sorry, I can go tell her not to bug you,” Isak says. 

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

Isak really should’ve demanded that Vilde let him play his own songs, because 5 Fine FrkØner comes on next, and Isak has to bury his face in his hands to hide his groan. 

“You don’t like this song?” Even asks. His head is already bobbing to the music. Of  _ course  _ Even is into this, as if he could ever be unenthusiastic about anything ever.  

“It’s overplayed shit.”

“It’s overplayed for a reason.”

“Seriously, Magnus wouldn’t stop singing this song when it came out. I was scarred.”

“You could make some new memories from this song.” Even stands up. He doesn’t do anything more, but it’s a clear invitation.  “Indulge me.”

“Improve your music taste first.”

“Isak, you’re already dancing,” Even says, and Isak suddenly becomes aware of how he’s moving his shoulders to the chorus.

He crosses his arms over his chest. “No, I’m not.”

“Holy shit, you’re so stubborn.”

Even’s grin is dangerously bright, tempting, and if Isak were someone else, he would grab Even’s hands and forget everything else. He’s about to stand when Emma slides up behind Even. Isak’s smile drops. 

“Hi, Emma,” he says curtly.

“Seems kinda weird that barely anyone’s seen you two talk unless I’m around.”

Isak groans. “Are we doing this again?”

“Pretending to be gay is very bad for the gay community, you know. I asked one of my gay friends. It trivializes gay experiences,” Emma says matter-of-factly. Isak wonders how long it took for her to find that one gay “friend” to ask.

“Not accepting gay relationships is very bad for the gay community too, you know.” Even’s voice isn’t unkind, but Isak can sense the tension underneath it. 

“I’m just trying to figure out why you two keep lying to me.”

Isak’s suddenly exhausted. All he wants to do is make fun of Even’s music taste as he dances to Gabrielle. He wants to grab a couple of beers from the kitchen and sneak into Vilde’s phone so they can put on some real music. He wants Even to keep looking at him like that, like he’s sure that Isak’s brave enough to do anything. 

He stands, nearly knocking over the beer can he’d set down earlier. He trails his hand down Even’s arm before  intertwining  their fingers. “Baby, let’s just go to my room, okay? I’m done with this.”

Isak whispers it into Even’s ear, but he makes sure Emma can hear. That’s the whole point. That’s the only reason he can do this. 

Even’s breath hitches, but he recovers quickly enough to slip an arm around Isak’s waist. “Yeah, okay.”

The door barely slams shut before Even whirls on him, eyes crinkling. “ _ Baby _ ? That was a nice touch.”

“Did you see the look on her face? Do you think she’ll believe us now?”

“Too stubborn. I could probably make out with you in front of her and she’d still think it’s a bro thing. Heteronormativity is powerful, man.”

Isak looks at his shoes. “Uh, um.” He motions between them, and when Even remains impassive, Isak ducks his head again. “We could pretend? Maybe she’ll get it, now that we’re in my bedroom. Where there’s a bed.”

Isak’s not the most eloquent of people on the best of days, but around Even, it’s even harder to properly sort out the thoughts in his head _.  _ Could he be any more of a loser?

“So we’re talking red lips, maybe a fake hickey, and can you blush on command, Isak? Because if not, I have some pretty scandalous facts about Renaissance painters saved up just for this moment.”

Isak feels the corners of his mouth curving up into a smile. “I hate you so much, honestly.”

“Hate you too,” Even says happily. He starts undoing the top buttons of his shirt, and Isak suddenly finds it hard to swallow with every new inch of skin that’s revealed. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but they’re in his  _ bedroom, where there’s a bed. _

Even moves to mess up Isak’s hair – which he’d actually combed that day, by the way – but Isak shoves him away, laughing. “What about your hair?”

“What  _ about  _ my hair – you’re not touching that, I just bought new gel–” But Isak’s fingers are already combing through  it. In spite of the product, his hair feels soft against Isak’s fingers. Isak’s finished masterpiece stands like a bush on Even’s head, but one messy lock falls over Even’s forehead. As if mesmerized, Isak pushes it back, brushing his hair more gently this time. Even’s eyelids droop at his touch. 

Isak swallows. “There, that should do it.”

“I still look dashing and handsome, right?” Even says softly.

“No, you look like the asshole who left his own party to make out with his boyfriend.”

“But a dashing and handsome asshole.”

“I’ve been told that people who look like you could be called attractive by objective standards.”

“That’s – almost a compliment. I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Even chuckles, but their laughter peters out when Isak ducks his head. He can feel Even’s eyes on him, the tension corded in his body. His stare could bore holes into the floor of his apartment, but he’s too scared of what he finds if he looks up. They’re on the verge of something he's too afraid to put a name to.

“You have paint on your chin,” Even says.

Isak rubs at the spot. “Sorry, I had to make Eskild put it on. You’d think someone who wears makeup that often would be more careful.”

“Don’t apologize. It looks good.”

And Isak doesn’t know what to say to that, honestly. Should he thank Even? Should he laugh it off? Or is it time to admit that  _ yeah, I may look good on certain, selective nights, but you look good all the damn time, and it’s driving me a little crazy. _

Isak manages to force his eyes up, and regrets it immediately when he realizes that Even’s inched closer.  His gaze tries to flit away , but Even’s looking at him with so much intent that he’s rooted to this moment, staring at this boy who makes his breath go shallow. Even’s open face is full of possibility, and it’s a little hard to keep eye contact. Even holds himself still, waiting, and God – it’s what Isak’s been doing this entire life, isn’t it? He's always been waiting. 

He’s tilting his head closer to Even’s lips when the door bangs open. “Isak, Linn needs you.”

Emma’s voice trails off when she sees them jumping apart. Isak holds his arms straight at his sides, resolutely ignoring the way Even’s eyes still linger on him. His face is burning – hell, his entire body is burning.

Emma raises her eyebrows. “So you two were in here…”

“We were just having a nice conversation about the weather, right, baby?” Even says. He still sounds a little breathless.  _ I did that. _

Even continues, “Isak was just explaining clouds to me. Did you know that there are, like, ten different types of clouds? Science _. _ ”

Something in the way Even’s staring at him, something about the way Isak blushes red  must finally do the trick, because Emma holds her hands up in surrender. “Alright, you two win. Congrats on the sex, or whatever, have a very happy life together.”

Isak hardly has enough time to process it before the music stops abruptly, and Eva and Vilde are yelling at everyone to get into taxis, because they’ll be late for this party if they don’t hurry now. He hears Vilde telling someone to make sure not to make a fool of themselves, because kosegruppa has to keep up its reputation as the coolest, most popular revue group. Emma gets dragged away by her friend Maria, and she doesn’t spare a glance behind her as she leaves. 

“You should probably go with them. I’ll stay here and clean up,” Isak says, trying to keep the disappointment out of voice. He wants to grab Even again, continue where they left off. Had they even left off somewhere, or had Isak made up the entire thing in his head? 

“Do you really want to try to clean up this mess alone?” 

“No, but you had that really hard Norwegian essay this week, and you should go have fun. Seriously, I’ll just get there late. I’ll take the bike, and – “

Even cuts him off with a gentle, “Isak, I want to stay here with you. Let me?”

Isak nods.  

* * *

Isak’s washing the dishes when Even comes in from picking up dirty cups in the living room. He leans against the drawers, watching Isak try to scrub lipstick from a glass that he had specifically told Vilde she couldn’t use.

“So I realize I probably went about that the wrong way.”

Isak’s stomach drops. He should’ve expected this. “You do?”

Even must see the way Isak shuts down because he’s quick to say, “No, not like that. How could you even think – Look, I should’ve started with this: I called Sonja earlier today. We’re going to talk tomorrow, and I think I’m going to ask her for a break. 

Isak doesn’t care at all. “Oh? How come?”

Even says, slowly, “I don’t think I love her anymore.”

“Is it because of us fake dating? I didn’t mean for it to hurt you.”

Even shakes his head and beams at Isak. “It didn’t hurt me. It made me see what I really wanted.”

Isak squeezes the sponge, letting the suds drip through his fingers. A flutter of hope rises in his chest. “But is it - is it because of me?” he ventures cautiously. 

Even smirks. “Who says it’s you? I’m breaking up with her for Leonardo DiCaprio, who’s finally decided to return my nine-year crush on him. He may even let me touch his Oscar _. _ ”

Isak throws the dirty dish towel at him. “Fuck you.”

Even dodges it, chuckling. His voice grows soft. “Look, I really have been wanting to do it for a long time.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Even sighs. “I guess I was scared.”

“What changed?” 

“Maybe I found someone who makes me feel safe enough that I’m not scared anymore.”

Isak’s heart starts beating faster. “They’re lucky to have you.” 

“I think I’m lucky to have  _ him.” _

Even’s hand comes up to stroke the side of Isak’s face, trails his thumb against Isak’s jawline. Isak melts into the touch.

Even’s breath is warm against Isak’s ear as he says, “I wasn’t imagining it earlier, was I?”

Isak’s skin feels so tight that he’s about to burst out of it. “No,” he croaks.

Even’s fingers pause for a minute, and he licks his lips. For the first time, Isak can see the nervous tension behind his eyes, and maybe Isak’s not the only one drowning in this energy between them. The revelation only intensifies the tingling in his skin, and when Even presses his lips against his, Isak lets himself meet him halfway.

Isak’s sigh when their lips finally touch expels all the tension from his body. It’s a kiss full of possibilities, of desire, of belonging. Isak tangles his fingers into Even’s hair to tug him closer, and Even’s lips are pressing against Isak’s so hard that they push all his insecurities out of his head, until the lightness spreads to his bones. It’s a little desperate, and he’s missing Even’s mouth half the time, but Even doesn’t seem to care as he cups Isak’s chin in his hands, tilting his face so he can get at a better angle. 

When they finally break apart, Even eyes are wild. “What took us so long?” he breathes. Then, like he can’t stop himself, he leans down to give Isak another peck on the lips, then another one, and it only goes uphill from there, until the laughter bubbles up in Isak’s gut. 

“You’re so amazing – anyone ever tell you how great you are?” Even says. He doesn’t bother to hide his giddiness as he circles his arms around Isak’s waist, pulling him closer. Isak shivers under his touch. 

Isak’s hands settle at the back of Even’s neck. “I think I can stand being told how great I am a few more times.”

“Good, because I’m going to keep reminding you.”

He’s the one to kiss Even this time, and he drags it out until Even lets out a soft moan against his lips. 

“I think we should break up,” Even pants.

Isak has to blink a few times to break himself out of his daze. “What?”

Even takes Isak’s hand. “No more fake dating? I think we can do better than that.”

Isak opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again, and manages to gather enough brain cells to say, “That’s cool.”

“I’ve just confessed by big gay – well, pansexual – crush on you, and all you have for me is ‘that’s cool’?”

Isak kisses Even again, soft and slower than before because they have all the time in the world now. There’s no rush. The night stretches before them, and Isak wants to ask Even to stay but he doesn’t have the words for it. He’s never had the words to ask anything of Even, but maybe this is enough. 

Isak’s aware that he’s beaming too brightly, and he’s grinning like a loon, but Even’s looking back at him with the same besotted expression. There’s no way he can keep his cool in a situation like this. 

Isak’s feeling brave enough to stutter, “What are you doing for the rest of the night?” 

Even squeezes Isak’s hand. “You tell me.” 

* * *

Isak wakes up to Even pressed against his back. When Isak turns to face him, he spies drool on his favorite pillow. He should be disgusted, really, because Eskild had just forced him to wash his sheets, but he just tucks the pillow more snugly under Even’s head. There are circles under Even’s eyes, Isak sees now that he has the chance to drink him in. He wonders what’s been keeping Even awake at night, whether he has the power to make it all go away.

The shuffling of the pillow must stir Even awake, because he’s slowly blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Isak can see the moment when Even realizes where he is, who he’s with, because his eyes grow wide. 

There’s a moment in which Isak is terrified that Even will suddenly be hit with the regret that's probably waiting around the corner, but  his worries disappear  when Even’s face splits into a grin. 

“Good morning,” Even says. “Half-asleep is a good look on you.”

“Excuse me? I woke up before you. I could’ve written the next great rap album by now, but you wouldn’t know, because you’ve been snoring your life away.”

“And you got back in bed just to stare at me?”

“I can get out of bed and  _ not _ stare at you, right now,” Isak says. 

Even runs his fingers through Isak’s mess hair.  “And here I thought you actually wanted me here.”

Isak purses his lips. “I guess I can stay.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.” Even ignores his morning breath to kiss him then, and it’s the kind of kiss that promises to stretch into the future. Isak can see other mornings spent like this, warm under the blankets with the kind of guy who makes him feel like he can take on the world. It’s a new sort of feeling – and that makes him a little bit sad, he won’t lie. It makes him wonder what he’s missed out on all these years he’s lived with blinders around his head. 

Even makes sure his last kiss lingers before he says, “We do have to get up at some point. I told Sonja we could grab coffee.”

Isak groans, pressing his face into the pillow. “Do you have to go?”

“You know I’ll come back.”

Isak’s always had a hard time believing that the people he cares about will choose him, but he’s starting to think Even could be an exception.

A few minutes later, when Even has the radio turned up loud as he makes breakfast in the kitchen, and Isak is still trying to work up the energy to drag himself out of bed, his phone buzzes with a text. It’s his father, badgering him about that Christmas concert again. He’s been on Isak’s case for the past week.  _ It’ll make your mother happy, Isak. _ As if his father had given a shit about his wife’s happiness when he ran out on them.

He can’t fucking deal with this right now, not when Even’s waiting in the kitchen. They’re going to kiss all morning without a care in the world, and he’s going to be happy, goddammit. His dad can’t ruin that. 

Still, it’s a little hard to enjoy Even’s signature eggs when Isak’s phone is weighing down his pocket, and after a while, Even just stares at him, patiently waiting. 

Isak sighs. “It’s my dad. There’s this concert he wants me to go to.”

Even tilts his head. “You haven’t really talked about him before. What’s he like?”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t talked to either of my parents since I moved out.”

Isak wishes he didn’t have to mention this at all, because he can’t stand the concern that colors Even's expression. He’s worked too hard to forget about his parents.

“Why is he suddenly reaching out to you now?” Even says.

Isak shrugs. “Maybe he finally remembered that raising a son means more than just throwing money at him and hoping he’ll survive. They’ve never even tried to get to know me.”

“So they probably won’t approve of me, huh?”

A part of Isak  _ does  _ want to text his dad back right now – the part of him that wants his dad to object, so that Isak can have another reason to avoid him, to never reach out and blame their lack of communication on the fact that Isak’s dad is just a dick who won’t ever accept him. Maybe it’s easier that way. It would be better for both of them if neither of them tried, and Isak almost resents him for making that first step. 

Isak shakes his head. “No, I think my dad will come around. I don’t know about my mom, though.”

“How come?”

Isak sucks in a breath to gather himself. His voice still shakes as he says, “My mom’s insane. That’s why my dad left.”

“Insane? What do you mean by that?”

“She thinks that the world is going to end. And like, that my uncle is Donald Trump.” He has to wipe his nose on his sleeve. “I don’t know, it’s so weird.”

“And she doesn’t talk to you anymore?”

“I only get these weird Bible quotes from her.” He chuckles, but there’s no humor behind it. “It’s fine, I don’t need that shit in my life anyway.”

It takes Even a moment to respond. Isak’s thinking that he said something wrong, because of  _ course  _ he’d fuck things up when they’ve barely started, when Even says, “That’s probably best.”

Even is quiet for the rest of the morning, but he entertains Eskild’s probing questions before Noora makes up some bullshit excuse about them trying that new vegan restaurant. Isak knows Eskild, and he’ll just gorge on a five-meat pizza after. 

Even leaves him at noon with a quick peck on the lips, and when Isak asks him when they can meet up again, because he’ll finally sit through one of Even’s movies without complaining this time, Even just kisses him again. 

 

* * *

_ Even Kosegruppa  _

15.30

Hi. Thanks for letting me stay over last night. I don’t know, but things might have moved along a little too quickly… I know it’s my fault, but I need time, sorry.

* * *

Isak spends the next week in a daze. He looks for Even in the hallways at school, but apparently mere longing doesn’t make guys show up out of nowhere. His phone doesn’t beep with a text from Even in the morning anymore, linking him to a song Isak has to listen to  _ right now  _ because it perfectly captures a mood Even had been trying to explain the night before. There’s no one to help him open his locker between classes. He’s stopped having to protest that  _ he really doesn’t want to watch Moulin Rogue again, because it’s, like, fine, but he has a test tomorrow, and just because Even has faith that he’ll do well anyway doesn’t mean that it’ll actually happen. _

Kollektivet runs out of balsamic dressing on Friday, and Noora just makes that face at Eskild because he’d probably taken the last of it for the strawberry and spinach salads he’s been trying out for his new diet. They both stare at Isak in surprise when he volunteers to go. 

Isak has to buy more ketchup-flavored Lay’s anyway, and Eskild’s been giving him pitying looks every time he catches Isak moping around the apartment. He’s so tired of it that he’s dying to leave anyway. All he’s been staring at for days is a blank phone screen. His fingers always freeze over Even’s name. None of it had probably mattered to Even anyway, and Isak’s not desperate enough to make the first move when Even has made it clear he doesn’t want Isak around. Isak should never have gotten his hopes up in the first place. 

He’s texting Noora about what brand of dressing she wants - really, he didn’t think the the market for dressing would be this diverse - when he hears a familiar laugh to his left. When he peeks over his shoulder, he finds Even standing next to a pretty girl, grinning as she points to a packet of taco spices. 

“Seriously, Sonja, this is such a cop-out.”

“You can’t even tell the difference. And the last time you tried to figure this out, you ended up adding too much pepper, and your tongue didn’t work right for, like, a week after that.”

She’s even prettier than she looks in the pictures, now that she’s standing right there in front of him. Sonja whispers something to Even that Isak can’t hear, and he has to cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter. He’s practically glowing. He’d never looked like that around Isak. 

Isak doesn’t realize that he’s staring until Even looks up from the spice packets, and says, “Isak? What are you doing here?” His brows furrow in confusion. 

“You haven’t been at school for the past few days,” Isak says quietly. It’s all he can get out, even if he aches to throw a million more questions at Even.  _ Why did you leave me? Why are you with her? Why did you let me think I could have you?” _

Sonja’s raises her eyebrows. “Who’s your friend?”

Isak almost wants to laugh. Of course Even hasn’t mentioned him. Even had probably left his apartment that day and fallen right back into his girlfriend’s arms. It had been a game for him from the start, and it’s on Isak if he’d ever thought differently. 

“Sonja, this is Isak. Isak, this is Sonja.” Even’s face grows strained, and his voice drops. “Look, Isak, I’ll text you later, alright?”

Isak grabs the nearest bottle of dressing on the shelf as he  bolts  away, hurriedly wiping away the tears. He’s seventeen and he’s in love with a boy who’s in love with someone else, because that’s just how his life is. If this is what Isak gets for letting himself want things, he should’ve just sucked it up and kissed some goddamn girls instead. 

* * *

Vilde hurries to catch up with him after gym on Monday. She’s still sweating and panting from all the sit-ups he’d seen her attempt, but her voice is surprisingly firm as she says, “I want to talk to you about Even.”

“Why do you think I care?” he snaps. He’d barely had enough time to change out of his gym clothes, and the sweat is making his shirt stick to his skin, but Vilde had never claimed to have good timing. 

“Well, you have a thing with him, don’t you? And if I had a thing with someone, I’d want to know.”

“What the hell makes you think that I have a thing with him?” Isak finally reaches his locker. 

“Emma told her friend Lea who told me that she saw you two kissing at the pregame.”

“So Emma told everyone that we’re together,” Isak repeats, just to make sure he’s getting it right. “That we’re dating, and we’re a couple, yeah?”

“Unless you’ve got some drastically different ideas of dating than I do. I just wanted to you to know that’s great! I love gays, and I won’t treat you any differently.”

His laughter comes out just this side of pure hysteria, and he has to press his forehead against the cold metal of the locker to keep it from bursting him apart. “It was a joke, Vilde,” he coughs between laughs. “We were pretending the whole fucking time, because Emma wouldn’t leave us alone.”

Vilde tilts her head. “So you two kissed as a joke?”

This brings up another wave of laughter, but this time, it’s tinged with nausea. He decides to go with the truth. “I don’t know, Vilde.”

“I could’ve sworn, from the way you two acted around each other…” Vilde trails off.

“What?”

“It looked real.”

And isn’t that the worst kind of irony. 

“We’re good actors.”

Even’s the good actor. Isak hadn’t been acting much, if he’s being honest with himself. 

“Dating or not, you’re still his friend, right?” Vilde’s voice drops to a whisper. “I don’t want to gossip, but I just thought I should tell you that I heard Even is kind of…psycho? Someone who went to Bakka with him last year said he completely snapped and wrote crazy stuff on Facebook.”

Isak manages to pull his locker door open, but he swings it so hard that it slams on the next locker over. His jaw clenches as he says, “Why are you telling me this?”

“I’d want to know if someone I was hanging out with had that kind of reputation.”

“That’s because that’s all you care about,” Isak snaps. He regrets it when Vilde flinches, hurt darting across her face. 

“But it does matter. I heard Even got arrested the other night because he ran into a McDonald’s stark naked. That’s the kind of crazy I’m talking about. I think someone said he was bipolar?”

Isak’s blood runs cold. What the fuck has Even kept from him? He’d looked fine before - a little  _ too  _ good - but maybe that’s just the way Isak’s always seen him. 

He tries to finish his Biology family tree project when he gets home, but his mind can’t stop wandering. Before he knows it, he’s looking up bipolar disorder. He vaguely recalls Magnus’s mom having it, but he doesn’t want to explain if Magnus asks him why he wants to know. From what he remembers, Magnus’s mom had been perfectly normal, nothing like the symptoms he’s managed to Google.  _ Irritability, increased sexual desire, depressive episodes.  _ None of that fits with what he knows about Even. Sure, Even’s a romantic, and he’s too obsessed with grand gestures, but that has nothing to do with this goddamn disease. That’s just Even. 

His lungs squeeze tight when it hits him. Isak had told Even that he didn’t want to deal with people like Even in his life. Even's nothing like his mom. He can’t reconcile the Even he knows with all this new information.

When the tears prickling at his eyes spill over, he doesn't stop them. This is his fault. Maybe Even hadn’t wanted to let him go at all. It was Isak who’d hurt him, because that’s what he does when someone cares about him. Of fucking course. 

Isak tries calling Even then, hoping the sheer force of his desperation will make Even pick up the phone. A million scenarios are running through his head. Even probably never wants to talk to him again, and Isak doesn’t blame him. 

In the end, Even doesn’t pick up, and Isak settles on texting  _ I need to talk to you, please call me when you can.  _

He nearly gets off at Even’s stop on the tram that day, but the possibility that Even may not be there at all, or that he’d send Isak away, freezes him in his tracks. He doesn’t understand shit. Maybe he’s a coward, maybe he’s being brave for the both of them because they’re better off without each other anyway. Either way, Isak slinks home alone with an empty text inbox, still hoping for a sign.

 

* * *

Jonas is waiting for him outside his apartment when he comes home from school the next day, holding out a bag of take-out kebab and a packet of hot sauce Isak always insists they get even if it makes every bite feel like hell. His smile is hopeful as he says, “Eskild says you’ve been bringing down his energy with all your moping, and we haven’t gotten kebab in a while, so I thought I’d bring some.”

“Eskild doesn’t know anything.”

“Eskild was trying to be a good friend. So am I. Now eat this fucking kebab before it gets cold, bro. I bet I can handle more hot sauce than you.”

Isak snorts. “Are you kidding me? You’re the one who almost got a fucking seizure because you thought it would be a good idea to try ghost peppers.”

Jonas only snorts and rolls his eyes, and it’s so familiar that something in Isak’s chest aches. He hadn’t realized how much he’s missed this. 

Isak lets Jonas into his room, and as Jonas hands over the kebab, he says, “I talked to Vilde today.”

For some reason, Isak’s not surprised at all. He gives himself a minute for the panic to hit, but it never does. If anything, he’s a little relieved. He’s been so scared of this for so long that it seems almost anti-climactic when Jonas says, “She told me you were pretending to be gay with Even.”

“And she thought it’d be a good idea to tell everyone?”

“It was just me, and I was there. Some third-years were talking shit – the worst kind of slurs – and she was trying to help you out.”

“What did she say?”

“That you weren’t really gay, and even if you were, what they were saying wasn’t okay.”

He sucks in a breath to work up his nerve. Isak’s voice is small but steady as he says, “Jonas, can I tell you something?”

Jonas keeps chewing his kebab, but he nods.

Isak swallows. “I wasn’t pretending to be gay.”

He curves his hands into fists so tight that his fingernails almost break the skin. Jonas just keeps eating his fucking kebab without answering, and Isak thinks he’s been waiting months, years for an response. He’s still wishing he could disappear when Jonas says, “Don’t blame you. He’s pretty good-looking.”

Isak’s mouth pops open. “What the hell, man?”

All Isak can do is blush. Sitting there with his best friend, spilling half their sauce on Isak’s sheets because they didn’t have the energy or the foresight to just grab some goddamn plates, he feels like there’s never been any distance between them at all. He’d told himself that Jonas wouldn’t understand, but maybe he’d just pushed Jonas away. 

“It’s over, though.” Isak stabs his fork into the kebab.“I fucked up, and he won’t call me back.” Saying it out loud makes it more real somehow, and suddenly, Isak’s shuddering so hard he has to set his food down, letting the oil dirty his bedsheets even further. It’s hard to get air into his lungs until Jonas places a hand on his shoulder. 

“You do a lot of stupid shit, man, I’m not gonna lie. But is he worth waiting for?”

Isak doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

"Then it'll work out."

 

* * *

Isak gets a call from an unknown number that night, and when he answers the phone, he hears an exhausted Sonja on the other line.

“Sonja? Even’s girlfriend Sonja?” Isak says. He snaps to attention immediately, Netflix and barbecue chips forgotten. His computer slides from his lap as he sits up straight, hand clenching around the phone so hard that his knuckles turn white. 

“Yes?” There’s a pause. “I mean, no. We broke up after he said you two got together.”

Isak’s brow creases. “But I saw you two...”

“We were talking about you, actually.”

“Oh.”

“Look, I was calling to ask if you’d talked to Even at all since we ran into each other?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Isak backtracks. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with him, obviously, he’s great, but there’ve been some rumors going around, and – “

“He’s bipolar, and he hasn’t left his bed in days.” Isak had read these words on a computer screen, but it sounds different confirmed by someone who’s known Even for years. He has too many questions for Sonja to ask all at once, but the person he wants to talk to right now isn’t Sonja. “And I think he needs you right now. You should reach out to him.”

“Why me?”

“Don’t you think that’s what I’ve been asking myself too? But you obviously matter to him, and I think it’s worth a shot.”

“Is there anything I can do to help him?”

She lets out a deep sigh. “Nothing really. Just be there for him as best as you can. And don’t assume what he needs. He’s the only one who can tell you.”

* * *

**Onsdag**

_ Even Kosegruppa _

22.11

Hi. I know this is a bad time for you, but please call me back when you get the chance. I’ll wait. I miss you, and I hope you’re doing okay

Did Sonja talk to you?

Yes. I’m sorry if you didn’t want that

It’s fine.

Can we talk?

Today is bad. 

Ok. No pressure. 

 

* * *

**Torsdag**

_ Even Kosegruppa _

22.30

Sonja told you I’m bipolar?

Yeah. Is that okay

I didn’t want you to find out like that

Do you know what that means?

I looked it up, but not really

Ok

It means that I’ll sometimes run through a McDonald’s naked and sometimes I’ll have days like this

I’m sorry

Why are you sorry??

For making you deal with this

You’re not making me deal with anything. You matter to me, and I’d rather deal with your shit than anyone else’s, okay?

Ok

* * *

**Fredag**

_ Even Kosegruppa _

19.30

Hi, how are you?

Mom let me have her fancy gelato today, so pretty good

Tell me about your day

Well, Magnus got dared to skateboard through the hallway today, and nearly ran over my Biology teacher. The one who never wears a bra? I never want to see her run away from anything ever again

Haha. Did Magnus get in trouble?

Just detention. I think he’s pretty happy actually, he just wanted to impress a girl

Vilde?

Is it that obvious?

He’s been texting me for relationship advice

How did he even get your number

He asked?

No way, you’re not allowed to be friends. He’ll lure you in because he looks fucking innocent, and the next thing you know, he has you discussing BDSM in public

Who says I don’t want that?

Not in  _ public _

;)

You’re so weird

* * *

**Lordag**

_ Even Kosegruppa _

20.45

I’m watching Romeo and Juliet again because of you, and it’s actually an okay movie without you chattering in my ear about the angles and the costuming the whole time

You’re not watching it properly then. Come over

Really?

Yeah, before I decide to watch this movie by myself so I can cry alone in peace

How do you still cry when you watch this movie?

Don’t lie. You’re almost crying right now aren’t you?

No comment :(

Making popcorn now. Are you coming?

Be there soon

* * *

Even opens the door with his hair wet, towel slung across his shoulders.

“Hi,” Isak says. 

Even’s lips curve into a soft smile. “Hi.” There’s a note of surprise in Even’s voice, and Isak can’t stop twinge of  guilt in his chest. He’d made Even feel like he couldn’t trust Isak with this, and he's not sure whether he’d ever forgive himself for that.

Isak pulls Even into a hug, breathing in the clean smell of him. After a moment, Even circles his arms around Isak’s waist. His touch is more tentative, but they’re getting there. 

As Isak’s stroking his back, Even says, “What’s this for?”

“I’m just glad you’re here.”

“And everyone thinks you’re so tough.”

“Fuck you, I can be tough  _ and  _ hug the guy I like, okay?” Isak can feel Even’s laugh rumbling through his chest. 

The smell of eggs wafts in from the kitchen, and Isak immediately gravitates to it when Even leads him inside. Sure enough, Even’s placed scrambled eggs on two plates. Behind him, Even rifles through the drawers for forks. 

“It’s dinnertime,” Isak protests, but hope swells up in his chest. 

“You didn’t properly appreciate my eggs the last time I made them for you. You couldn’t even taste the subtle notes of sour cream.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really fucking extra?”

“Has anyone ever told you to just accept nice things? Look, it’s food that I made for you and that you’re getting for free. Anyone else would be jumping for joy.”

“Do you try this with all the boys you take home?”

“No, only the cutest ones.”

Even’s parents aren’t there, so they settle themselves on Even’s couch. Even pulls up Romeo and Juliet on his laptop, but Isak hardly pays attention to the movie. This is Isak’s third time watching, and he doesn’t even want to think about how many times Even’s sat through this, so Isak focuses on Even’s fingers combing through his hair, his head pillowed on Even’s chest. Even doesn’t even have enough energy to analyze how Baz Luhrmann builds up the tragedy through his visuals. 

Halfway through the movie, Even sighs and turns down the volume. “What do you want to know? About all of this?” He gestures to himself. 

“Whatever you want to tell me,” Isak says simply. 

Even turns his face to the side. “I don’t want you to keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for me to snap.”

“I don’t think that.” Isak’s voice cracks. “I don’t think that at all.”

"Look,” Even shakes his head, “I’m going to have some good days and some bad days. You’ve seen the good days, but you won’t be saying that when you see the bad.”

Isak’s voice shakes as he tries to stifle the sob that’s rising in his throat. “You don’t know that.”

“I’m not what you want as your first boyfriend, Isak. You deserve something sweet and simple and happy.”

“I’m happy with you.”

When Even only stares at a spot above Isak’s head, Isak says, shakily, “Look, funny story. This guy and I started fake dating because we wanted to annoy the hell out of this girl, but it was a dumb idea because I liked him from the very beginning. Then, just as I find out he likes me back, he suddenly thinks I won’t want him anymore. Like that could ever happen, no matter what kind of shit comes up.”

“This guy sounds like a lot of work.”

“He’s worth it,” Isak says. 

Isak almost misses Even asking, “Do you really think so?”

It strikes him, suddenly, that there may be people who hadn’t reminded Even of this every day - people who had made him feel like he was some sort of burden. The thought of it makes Isak sick to his stomach. Even’s the brightest person Isak’s ever met. He’ll tell Even time and time again if that’s what Even needs. 

“Of course.”

Isak catches Even’s lip trembling, and he kisses him then, sweet and simple. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make Even’s lips curve upwards against his. And maybe that’s all there is to it, these small moments that tilt Isak’s world on his axis - moments that'll seem insignificant years down the line. He’s okay with that. What matters is this minute, right now _.  _

Even turns the volume of the TV back up, but this time he’s excitedly explaining how the movie taps into the irony so well, and Isak doesn’t understand much, but he’s grinning at Even anyway. 

He touches the corner of Even’s lips. “You’re smiling.”

“Maybe I just have something to smile about.”

Even’s looking at Isak so intently that there’s no question of what he means by that. He twists a strand of Isak’s hair around his finger, pulling him close enough to press their lips together again. The movie is still playing in the background, and it’s tragic, it’s epic, it’s a love story for the ages, but Isak has all he needs right here. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND it's over. So I've been writing fic since I was 13, and this is the first multichapter fic that I've actually finished. (Unless you count this one series of oneshots ages ago, which I don't.) I'm really glad I reached this milestone in the SKAM fandom, so thank y'all so much for the love and support!

**Author's Note:**

> I give y'all full permission to hold me to weekly updates (okay maybe week and a half - I have internship applications due soon) on this. I haven't posted a WIP in years, so I'm excited to see how this goes! If it reassures you, the first draft is actually done. Find me on tumblr at [adamparishe](http://adamparishe.tumblr.com/)!


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